Through a Jaded Glass
by dhram30
Summary: The story of N's life,in one act. He had always remembered what he had done. She had gone because him . And she wasn't coming back. N x Touko angst. Major Character Death. Oneshot.


The one time he ever saw her for what she was, it was too late. N glanced out of the window, brokenly. His castle was in ruins, but within them lay someone special. Someone _important_ to him. He remembered clearly, so vividly, how their first meeting was. The girl with the white hat, sought to challenge him, the King of Team Plasma. At the time, he was nothing, and she was nothing. But her victory over him in the small, isolated Accumula Town only cemented his status as weaker than the weakest. Even then, he knew she would be something special. But he _saw_ her as something else. _Saw_ her as a little, oblivious girl who was too focussed on what life should be, and too blind to what it really was. Was it her? Or was it actually him, the one who couldn't _see_ her, couldn't _understand_ her. Even then, the girl with the white hat had confounded him. She had defeated his Purrloin, the cat that had been his childhood pet for so long a time. In hindsight, he missed that cat terribly. It had been a source of comfort to him despite the torture of his father, and releasing it had led to its eventual demise. N _remembered_. He _remembered_ the sight of the unmoving purple heap, the once bright, beautiful spark of light that had been drowned out by the cold irony that was its death. The trickster, the cunning yet witty ball of fur that had been his companion, his friend, and the one to lick his wounds whenever they scarred, had gone somewhere N could not follow. Bitterly, N spat on the floor, and a bloody mixture stained it. The death of his first partner was _his fault_. So were the others. They were all his fault. They would always be _his fault._ He could not help it. N fell to the floor dejectedly, as the memories came back to haunt him, _one by one._ The ghosts of his past had come back to demand his very soul as a the price for their death. Their blood was on his hands.

The second time he saw her was at that blasted Museum. It was supposed to be a quick operation. Quickly steal the skull and disappear. He would have done the deed, instead of the grunts, but his attention wavered. _She_ was there. The trainer, with that damnable white hat. She was much stronger this time, but he only lost again. And he had lost another piece of himself, along with the pokemon he had by his side. They were all released, and fell to their deaths in the wild. He couldn't even remember their names. He was too transfixed by the utter puzzle that was that very girl, that he lost track of all else. N could not stop the tears now. _He didn't even remember their names_. They were long dead by now and he could not remember them at all. Was it _her?_ Did she take away his interest in everything else? No, it was him. He knew it too. _He_ did the deed of releasing his pokemon. _He_ had sold them and himself to oblivion. A laugh escaped the lips of N, as he reminisced. It was dry, and hollow, like a twisted distortion of the true N was speaking.

Then there was that accursed wheel. He had been told to aid the escaped grunts in finding safety, but his plans, beautiful and methodical, were disrupted, by a presence he was beginning to get frustrated at. The girl. She walked in, elegant as ever, and _looked_ at him. Looked at him as if he were the scum of the Earth. She knew already, knew the side he was on, and she _condemned_ him for it. Whether by instinct or not, he immediately sought to make amends. The ferris wheel moved slowly. The two of them talked, as equals, and he finally told her of his true intentions. He told her of fire, of destroying the world and liberating those who suffered from such terrible, terrible bonds of oppression. She resisted. The girl told him to stop, to waver and cease following on the path to destruction. She told him he would lose himself in the process. She told him that history had never been kind to the victors. He dismissed her and let her leave. He would continue on his course to fulfilling his truth. He let her go. And that was his biggest regret, and happiness. He had known it was foolishness to let her go. Now, he realised that it was Fate that demanded he did so. Yes, fate had to play the final chord in the haunting melody of N's existence.

They met at the castle. Her strength had given her focus, and given her power. The two battled, with Zekrom rallying to her side, and Reshiram becoming his for the battle of the ages. What did they know of love, or hate? All they knew was the jaded perspectives the world wished them to view it through. She hated him. He hated her. But she loved him.. but he didn't _love_ her enough. Didn't _care_ enough. So when she wavered, the fire of Reshiram consumed her. The whole world was consumed, and Reshiram and Zekrom and everything else. All that remained was N, and his broken castle, and the burnt remnants of the girl with the white hat on a charred wall of his abode. N watched, bitterly, as the darkness began to consume him. He had lost her to fate. Fate had taken her from him, and he wanted her back. He closed his eyes, and imagined the smiling face of Touko as he fell into his personal hell. Serenity wasn't an option when you were never destined for it.

Touko smiled, and then became nothing. Just like the beginning. They were both nothing, and they always would be. N looked up, and slept, a last sleep fit for a king. A king that was a mere mortal at last.

Touko was with him. She always had to be. Even though she wouldn't be. Where N went, nobody else could follow.


End file.
